


Together

by antumbral



Category: TV Commercials
Genre: Did Our Duty For Archive And Fandom, Gen, Sad, Schmoop, Sweet, Zoo, anthropomorfic - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-09-13
Updated: 2010-09-13
Packaged: 2017-10-11 18:42:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,018
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/115691
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/antumbral/pseuds/antumbral
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>True friends don't need to share a species.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Together

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Buenos Aires Zoo commercial starring a bear and a monkey. Watch [this video](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=y0UKqwUd8Ec&feature=player_embedded) first, the story will make more sense that way.

Every morning, the bear awoke to the sound of humans rattling dishes. The tiger next door would growl at his food, then a few minutes later a bowl would appear through the door of the bear's sleeping enclosure, and the bear would sniff at the morning's meat. He usually scarfed it down quickly, eager to finish so that he could go outside. Morning was the best time for swimming, when the water was coldest and he could press his nose up against the underwater glass to watch the human cubs squeal.

One morning, there was a great noise outside: growlings and rumblings from the enclosure next door, on the opposite side from the tigers. The bear hadn't smelled other animals from that direction in a while, and had considered it empty. But now petrol and smoke smells wafted over the high walls separating the two enclosures, and when he swam the water carried the rumblings of huge animals through his fur, as though the gasoline-and-metal smelling giants were dancing on the other side of the walls, and their dancing was moving the earth. The dancing began again every morning for many days, and stopped only in the late afternoon. The bear began to swim in the evening too, when the water was peaceful and didn't rumble or growl to him.

Then one day, when the bear went out for his morning swim, the giants were gone. In their place was a different racket, a familiar one. He'd heard those sounds before. Monkeys. The bear listened for the sound of one monkey in particular, his monkey, but it was impossible to distinguish one voice from the other amidst all the clatter. Still, it was comforting to hear the monkeys again, and when the bear went into his sleeping enclosure that night, he pressed himself against the wall nearest to the monkeys and listened to their chatter as he fell asleep, imagining the tiny hands of his monkey combing through his fur as they'd slept beneath the stars.

The next day, he wasn't permitted to go outside after his meat, and he could smell the giants again, right on the other side of his sleeping enclosure wall. It worried the bear, that the giants were dancing in his pool, and he paced on the other side of his sleeping enclosure all day. The petrol-stink giants drowned out the sounds of the monkeys all day, and the bear growled at them, but in the late afternoon they quieted down again, and the bear could listen to the monkeys as he slept. This went on for three days: giants and noise and vibrations all day, and quiet at night.

On the fourth day, the bear scarfed down his meat as usual, and as usual, the door opened between his sleeping enclosure and the big space outside. The dancing of the giants had changed the space, though. Instead of his familiar rocks and pool, the pool had grown larger, and the wall on the side closest to the monkeys was gone. The pool now extended all the way over to the island where the monkeys stayed, though the island was too tall for him to climb up and reach them.

All morning, he stared across his pool at the monkeys, listened to their chatter, and watched one monkey staring back. It looked familiar, same tiny hands, same fluffy ears. The bear made snuffling noises in the monkey's direction, and the monkey frolicked on the banks of his island, skittered up a tree and waved his arms, then rocketed back down and to the very edge of the pool, chattering all the while. The bear roared, and the monkey danced, and the bear wondered if it was his monkey on the other side of the pool.

The next day, when the giants didn't return, the bear felt safe enough to go in the water. He swam down under and pressed his nose to the glass to watch the human cubs squeal, then when the cubs went away, he swam over to the monkeys' island and looked up at the tall, tall banks. The monkey looked back down at him.

The bear grunted, and ignored the water that rushed into his mouth. The monkey chattered a little bit, and the bear pressed his nose against the island's banks. The monkey skipped from back and forth, shrieking, then lowered himself over the bank of the island, and dropped six feet to land on the bear's snout. His tiny paws gripped at the bear's ears as he settled himself on the bear's head, and the bear grunted again then swam slowly back to his side of the pool, careful to keep his monkey above the water.

They climbed out of the pool together and the bear shook himself dry, showering the monkey with droplets. The monkey darted back up onto his back and chittered contentedly. The bear turned his head to nuzzle at the monkey's paws, and the monkey tugged affectionately at the fur between his shoulders. The bear found a spot in the shade, and curled up to sleep, his monkey on top of him like old times.

The humans came out a while later, three of them, emerging from the bear's sleeping enclosure to stand with their paws on their hips, grunting at each other in low tones. The bear raised his head to watch them, and the monkey uncurled from his place on the bear's back to go sit on his head, whispering curiously into the bear's ears. Eventually the humans went away again, and the bear and his monkey went back to sleep.

That night, the humans passed a small bowl into the sleeping enclosure next to the bear's evening meat. It contained fruit for the monkey, and they ate side by side. The sleeping enclosure didn't have any beautiful stars for them to watch, but it seemed brighter than before. The bear curled up to sleep, and the monkey settled himself between his front paws, cradled between the bear's snout and leg. It wasn't quite like before, but they were together again.

**Author's Note:**

> This story dedicated to the monkeys and former polar bear of Riverbanks Zoo. The polar bear is dead now (he lived a very long life for a bear), but when he was alive he actually did share his enclosure with a troop of monkeys and an arctic fox. The monkeys had their own island, separated from the bear by a pool, but occasionally you'd see a monkey or two on the bear's side of the enclosure. They seemed to co-exist peacefully, and the video made me think of the bear and monkeys at my own zoo, which seemed like a good excuse to get them back together. Plus I cried at the end of the video (I think I'm hormonal right now, but it was sad, damnit!), and I wanted to make it all better.


End file.
